


Away from the Sea

by englandwouldfalljohn



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: 360MG format, Established Relationship, Fluff, Like 221b but for Mystrade, M/M, POV Greg Lestrade, Poetic, mystrade, soft stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-18 11:42:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29489244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/englandwouldfalljohn/pseuds/englandwouldfalljohn
Summary: I unfold at his touch, his long limbs reaching for my cover. I am his shelter from the rain, his haven in the storm.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Comments: 10
Kudos: 44





	Away from the Sea

**Author's Note:**

  * For [OneBlueUmbrella (bigblueboxat221b)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigblueboxat221b/gifts).



> This is a 360MG fic--360 words, final words ending in M and G (in either order). It's the Mystrade answer to the 221b ficlet :)

I unfold at his touch, his long limbs reaching for my cover. I am his shelter from the rain, his haven in the storm. Simple, I see myself, thrift store value—worn and frayed, a million others just the same. Simple, he sees me, uncomplicated by the world, singularly useful and whole in myself. He sighs beneath me, the stale scent of cigarettes and regrets etched deep. I will not let the deluge reach his shoulders. It is mine to bear, when he allows, and I will carry this burden with pride. 

It has been one of those days, his eyes tell me, and I kiss them shut. Freckles and thin red hair, he hates what he sees in all mirrors, except me. I reflect the truth of him. Fragile lines and tenderness, he is more than his fears and misdeeds. Hawk nose and eagle eyes, but he can turn them off with me. This bed is a harbour, and I am the cove. I watch him drift, watch him moor himself away from the rage of the open sea. 

And finally, finally, he unfolds in turn for me. His is a night-blooming blossom, a sterling beauty veiled by the darkness. I have learned to be nocturnal in these years, have learned to see by the wan light of his hope. I progress in silence, lest he startle and shutter himself against the world. A brush of fingers along his temple, rubbing away the ache of the day. A whisper of lips on lips, inviting the stories that come without words. He anchors himself to my ministrations, allows me to strip bare his armour. Cufflinks removed reveal slender wrists, whose soft flesh soothes my evening stubble. Mundane buttons expose a hair-dusted chest, fire and ivory, and a beating heart. His shoulders are coated in constellations, the hunter rising as he reaches his arms around me. I am Orion’s bull tonight, waiting to be captured, held fast in an ancient rite. He wraps himself around me; I offer him my body, my breath, my all consuming love. I am rewarded then with the only words he will speak tonight.

‘My Gregory.’


End file.
